Dracula. Bram Stoker

God help me!

      How am I to account for all these horrors when I get to port?

      When I get to port! Will that ever be?

      4 August. Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I know

      there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not. I

      dared not go below, I dared not leave the helm; so here all night

      I stayed, and in the dimness of the night I saw It Him! God

      forgive me, but the mate was right to jump overboard. It was

      better to die like a man; to die like a sailor in blue water no man

      can object. But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But

      I shall baffle this fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to

      the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with them

      I shall tie that which He It! dare not touch; and then, come

      good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honour as a

      captain. I am growing weaker, and the night is coming on. If He

      can look me in the face again, I may not have time to act…, If

      Cutting from «The Dailygraph» 81

      we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be found, and those

      who find it may understand; if not, … well, then all men shall

      know that I have been true to my trust. God and the Blessed

      Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his

      duty….

      Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence to

      adduce; and whether or not the man himself committed the

      murders there is now none to say. The folk here hold almost

      universally that the captain is simply a hero, and he is to be given

      a public funeral. Already it is arranged that his body is to be

      taken with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece and then

      brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps; for he is

      to be buried in the churchyard on the cliff. The owners of more

      than a hundred boats have already given in their names as wish-

      ing to follow him to the grave.

      No trace has ever been found of the great dog; at which there

      is much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state,

      he would, I believe, be adopted by the town. To-morrow will see

      the funeral; and so will end this one more «mystery of the sea.»

      Mina Murray’s Journal.

      8 August. Lucy was very restless all night, and I, too, could

      not sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among

      the chimney-pots, it made me shudder. When a sharp puff came

      it seemed to be like a distant gun. Strangely enough, Lucy did

      not wake; but she got up twice and dressed herself. Fortunately,

      each time I awoke in time and managed to undress her without

      waking her, and got her back to bed. It is a very strange thing, this

      sleep-walking, for as soon as her will is thwarted in any physical

      way, her intention, if there be any, disappears, and she yields

      herself almost exactly to the routine of her life.

      Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the

      harbour to see if anything had happened in the night. There

      were very few people about, and though the sun was bright, and

      the air clear and fresh, the big, grim-looking waves, that seemed

      dark themselves because the foam that topped them was like

      snow, forced themselves in through the narrow mouth of the

      harbour like a bullying man going through a crowd. Somehow

      I felt glad that Jonathan was not on the sea last night, but on

      land. But, oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, and how? I am

      getting fearfully anxious about him. If I only knew what to do,

      aad could do anything!

      82 Dracula

      10 August. The funeral of the poor sea-captain to-day was

      most touching. Every boat in the harbour seeme’oV to be there,

      and the coffin was carried by captains all the way from’TTate Hill

      Pier up to the churchyard. Lucy came with me, and we went

      early to our old seat, whilst the cortege of boats went up the river

      to the Viaduct and came down again. We had a lovely view, and

      saw the procession nearly all the way. The poor fellow was laid

      to rest quite near our seat so that we stood on it when the time

      came and saw everything. Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She

      was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that

      her dreaming at night is telling on her. She is quite odd in one

      thing: she will not admit to me that there is any cause for rest-

      lessness; or if there be, she does not understand it herself. There

      is an additional cause in that poor old Mr. Swales was found

      dead this morning on our seat, his neck being broken. He had

      evidently, as the doctor said, fallen back in the seat in some sort

      of fright, for there was a look of fear and horror on his face that

      the men said made them shudder. Poor dear old man! Perhaps

      he had seen Death with his dying eyes! Lucy is so sweet and

      sensitive that she feels influences more acutely than other people

      d’o». Just now she was quite upset by a little thing which I did not

      ’much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals. One of the

      men who came up here often to look for the boats was followed

      by his dog. The dog is always with him. They are both quiet

      persons, and I never saw the man angry, nor heard the dog bark.

      During the service the dog would not come to its master, who

      was on the seat with us, but kept a few yards off, barking and

      howling. Its master spoke to it gently, and then harshly, and then

      angrily; but it would neither come nor cease to make a noise. It

      was in a sort of fury, with its eyes savage, and all its hairs bris-

      tling out like a cat’s tail when puss is on the war-path. Finally

      the man, too, got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog,

      and then took it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and

      half threw it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The

      moment it touched the stone the poor thing became quiet and

      fell